His father he’d meant to kill. When the old man had come home and found his wife dead, he’d started beating on him with a switch; he should have c...osen a different place to do the beating. The knife was right there, right on the table, after all. He was good with a blade. He’d always been good with a blade. His father knew he was good with a blade – maybe he’d planned the whole thing. The old man wasn’t much good without his whore of a wife, anyway.He turned his head briefly as he heard a twig. .. if you don’t mind...”“Have at it,” Adam says, enjoying her taking charge.When the waitress comes back, Paula looks away from the menu and up at the woman. “We’ll start off with the spicy wedge. Then we’ll get potato soup and then French dips.”The waitress takes the menus and leaves.Paula leans forward, across the table, allowing Adam to get a good look at her chest. And she knows that he is looking at her breasts. She smiles at him. “What are you looking at?” she asks, giggling and leaning. My mother Linda was pulmonologist surgeon, she was forty-four. My fatherMarcus was an officer (colonel) and he was fifty-three. We were anexemplarily family externally. From inside our family wasn't a family atall. My parents were sleeping in separate rooms. There were almost norelatives except of father's cousin and her family. Parents were meetingtheir friends from their jobs at home but it weren't meetings rathercorporative ones. Doctors were chatting about their patients and diseasesand. I went around and cranked the car. “Paul, please direct me to Angelo’s.”Karen said, “That’s the Italian place, isn’t it?”“Yes, Love.”“I like Italian, too.” It was open and we made their Monday night with our two ladies. The service bordered on hovering. I really didn’t blame the waiters. Fortunately, our real server was a nice, older lady.“Good evening. I am Marie and I will take care of you tonight. Are you celebrating something?”Melissa quickly said, “They got engaged yesterday between Sunday.